Poisoned Hearts and Healing Words
by SocialDegenerate
Summary: Still manipulating from behind bars, Kristoph aims to ruin everything that Klavier and Apollo have built together.
1. Prologue

"I don't love you."

 _I love you so much that it physically hurts._

Apollo couldn't look Klavier in the eyes, too worried that his resolve would crumble down before he had the chance to make a clean break. He should never have visited Kristoph, much less without Klavier there, but the man was always right.

Just like he right was about this.

"It's never going to work out and I don't want to be unhappy."

 _Your career is going to tank if anyone finds out about us. Kristoph is right, your audience is women who want you_ _and none of them will support you if you have a male lover._

"I'm sorry, Prosecutor Gavin, but it's for the best."

 _You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can stand proudly beside you._

Chancing a glance up at Klavier, Apollo flinched when he saw the open, vulnerable pain written all over Klavier's face. Long fingers were clenched tight around the sharp corners of the tacky necklace he wore, and Apollo wanted nothing more than to take his hand and unwind it from the pointy jewellery.

"Apollo, what..." Klavier said, his usual charm long gone and his voice sounding raw and pained. "Did I do something wrong? I can fix it, baby, I'll do anything you want me to, just don't do this."

Looking down at the floor to hide the wetness of his eyes, Apollo violently shook his head. "There's nothing you can do, Prosecutor Gavin. I just don't want this any more."

 _I'm a substandard lawyer at a bottom of the barrel company. If you don't start taking bigger cases against better defence teams, you'll never get promoted and I can't keep dragging you down with me_ _._

Kristoph's words beat into Apollo's brain like the worst kind of catchy music, snide comments about his looks being too plain for a rock star lover and his intelligence being too low for a prosecutor partner. Pointed jabs about how Apollo would drag Klavier down to his level, until he was working three minimum wage jobs just to survive and his natural beauty faded into overworked tiredness.

"Apollo, _please_!"

"This is for the best, Kl-..Gavin."

 _Like he said, if I don't leave now you'll get tired of me soon anyway, but you won't have the heart to leave._

Apollo knew that Kristoph was a liar and a murderer and the worst kind of person, but his words were nothing more than echoes of what Apollo should have admitted to himself all those months ago, when Klavier had stepped up before him in a burst of glimmerous beauty and first asked him out. It was like Kristoph had been able to read each and every one of Apollo's insecurities, and _that_ was how he knew that this was the right thing to do.

Another quick glance up and Klavier was openly crying now, the privacy of his own apartment making him show a face that Apollo had never seen from his eternally camera-ready and composed boyfriend. He looked unfairly gorgeous even with tears leaving wet trails down his cheeks, and Apollo's hand twitched with the urge to wipe the wetness away.

"I can't stop you if this is what you really want," Klavier said, his voice shaking just a little. "I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm sorry that I have."

More than anything else, it was those words that almost had Apollo breaking down and begging for forgiveness. Klavier hadn't hurt him, he'd been the one hurting Klavier.

Even if the man himself hadn't realised it.

"I have to go."

 _If I don't leave now, I never will, and then you'll never be free to grow. I'll kill you from the inside out before you even notice that you should be hurting._

Hitching his bag over his shoulder, glad he'd managed to collect all of his important things before Klavier had come home and ruined his clean escape, Apollo turned towards the door and walked as fast as he could, wanting to leave before he could break down.

"Wait!" Klavier yelled, the sound so heartbreakingly sad that Apollo paused before he could open the front door. He couldn't turn back to look at Klavier, but that didn't seem to matter.

"If...if you can, one day...I'd like it if you could tell me why. Why this, why _now_...I thought we were good, even _great_ together, Apollo. I'm sorry that I couldn't make you happy."

Walking away without another word, Apollo managed to make it to the outside of the building before he broke down, slumping against the back wall away from prying eyes and letting himself shake and sob.

He'd made the correct choice.

Right?


	2. Perfection

Klavier Gavin was perfection.

Klavier Gavin was a silky voice and a glossy haircut and flawless skin and designer clothes and a seductive pout.

Klavier Gavin was a brilliant legal mind, a consummate showman behind the prosecutor's desk, the current frontrunner for the 2028 King of Prosecutors Trophy, and a professional above all else.

Klavier Gavin was a hollow, flimsy illusion, a comfortingly familiar but threadbare blanket draped over the body of a broken man.

Alone in his apartment- because _why_ would anyone bother to stick around- Klavier let the disguise fall away, no trace of the perfect armour that he wore in public left to shield him from the truth. With bedraggled hair, bloodshot eyes and his mouth twisted into a sneer at the pitiful state of himself, Klavier couldn't see anything in the mirror other than his brother breaking down at the witness stand.

Growing up, he'd always semi-jokingly referred to himself as the better looking brother, but deep down he'd known that they might as well have been twins. It hadn't been a bad thing; they'd both always been exceptionally beautiful, with even Kristoph's harshly serious personality unable to deter some admirers during his schooling.

But now the face that Klavier had once considered a genetic blessing felt more like a curse, the image of a murderer following him whenever he looked into anything even vaguely reflective.

And, vain as he could be, he owned a _lot_ of reflective surfaces.

With a scowl, Klavier pushed away from the mirror and wandered through his cold, empty apartment, even more unliveable now that the picture frames had been ripped from the walls with only the faint outlines on the paintwork still remaining.

When he'd first bought the apartment, the frames that he'd hung up were filled with pictures of him and the other Gavinners, interspersed with a few of him and his brother. Each one had been a treasured memory that filled him with joy, seeing himself make real smile after real smile instead of the plasticky thing he used for the press.

The ones with Kristoph had been burnt first, the photographs curling away into ash as Klavier wondered where it had all gone wrong, wondered when his brother had gone from a strict but fair man to a callous murderer.

When Daryan had been arrested less than three months later and the rest of the band had quickly fallen out of contact, the photographs of the Gavinners had gone the same way as Kristoph's. Klavier hadn't cried the second time, too busy dealing with the sinking realisation that maybe, just maybe, it was _him_.

He was just as much of a poison as atroquinine or the toxin from the Borginian cocoon.

Words had always been more of a strong point for Klavier than numbers ever had, but he could still figure out that it was incredibly statistically unlikely for one man's brother _and_ his best friend to both become murderers in completely separate circumstances. There had to be a connection between the two, didn't there?

The worst part was that Klavier could tell that he was being illogical, and should have known better, but it was just another failure as a prosecutor, as a rock star, as a _person_.

No wonder he couldn't make Apollo happy.

No wonder he now had to replace all his photos for a third time, getting rid of the physical evidence of how happy Apollo had looked on the outside while tearing apart from within.

A loud sob tore its way out from Klavier's throat, already feeling raw and torn up from a day of complete misery. After Apollo had closed the door behind him the day before, Klavier had stumbled into bed where he'd then stayed until the morning, trying to stifle the wailing he wanted to do in favour of crying silently into his pillow.

He should never have even bothered getting up, Klavier decided as he collapsed back into his bed, pressing the palms of his hands into his sore eyes. Maybe he could get away with never getting out of bed again, just lay there until he died.

All he did was hurt people. It was probably a good thing that Apollo had gotten out when he did, before whatever Klavier had inside him twisted yet another poor soul.

With another sob, Klavier curled himself into a ball and let his mental and physical exhaustion push him back to sleep. At least if he was asleep, he wasn't actively ruining anyone else's life.

* * *

The sound of a generic ringtone blaring jolted Klavier out of his sleep, his body feeling worse than ever after another sixteen hours of sleep. His lethargic, clouded thoughts took a while to form, Klavier very slowly realising that it was his work phone that was ringing and not his personal one.

He'd turned his personal phone off as soon as Apollo had left, but he hadn't even considered doing the same to his work phone. Considering that Apollo had originally been at his apartment to celebrate Klavier closing another successful case, he hadn't yet started a new workload and so hadn't been expecting anyone to contact his professional number.

In the meantime, the phone was still ringing away, whoever was on the other end showing no sign of hanging up. Klavier picked up the phone while fully intending to reject the call, but his finger paused when he saw the name of the Chief Prosecutor splashed across the screen.

With a start, Klavier realised that it was past ten o'clock on a Monday morning, more than two hours later than when he would usually arrive at work. He knew _exactly_ why he was getting a call, and it would certainly be in his best professional interests to answer.

"Herr Edgeworth," Klavier greeted, forcing himself to sound as normal as possible. It didn't exactly work, but at least he had enough sense not to try and pretend that he didn't know the reason for the call.

"Mr Gavin," Edgeworth replied, sounding thankfully far from pissed off. "You've missed the Monday briefing and don't appear to be in your office. Care to explain?"

"I..." _I've been in bed for two days because my boyfriend left me._ Yeah, the Chief Prosecutor would _love_ to hear that. "I'm horrendously sick."

It was close enough, and it was also completely unconvincing. But despite the prevailing idea that Miles Edgeworth knew nothing about people, he was still a man who had built a very successful career on observing people and putting fragments together to make the whole story.

After a few moments of silence, Edgeworth made a quiet noise of consideration. "Your personal leave time has been piling up ever since you stopped touring, and the payroll department is insisting that employees don't accumulate too many weeks of paid leave."

"Are you offering me a vacation?" It really wasn't surprising that Edgeworth had deducted that something bad had happened. Between Klavier's perfect record in regards to being at work on time and the fact that his natural charm seemed to have deserted him completely, even an idiot could have figured out that something was wrong.

"I'm telling you that payroll is bothering me about you having too much unused leave."

Despite everything, Klavier felt his lips twitch at that. Even if he was far less of a demon than he used to be, Miles Edgeworth had a certain reputation to uphold.

"Then if you'll excuse me, Herr Edgeworth," Klavier said, dropping any attempt at sounding normal and letting his exhaustion and misery seep into every word, "I'm going back to sleep."

"I expect to see you at the eight-thirty meeting next Monday, Mr Gavin. Auf wiederhören."

The call ended before Klavier could reply, leaving him staring at the default wallpaper that had come with his work phone. He only felt a little guilty about disregarding his responsibilities and rolling over to go back to sleep, but what was a little more on top of the mess he was already feeling?

A week to get his head on straight. He could do that.


	3. Don't Throw It All Away

Monday was a write-off. Klavier only crawled out of bed in the evening to eat and piss, his haze of thoughts clearing just enough to let him realise that he was going to pass out if he didn't put _something_ into his body. He'd been lucky enough to have a bottle of water by his bed so that he at least wasn't _entirely_ dehydrated, but if he hadn't purposefully avoided looking into any mirrors then he was sure he would have seen death staring back at him.

He wasn't as big of a star as he'd once been, but the internet would still have an absolute field day with current pictures of him.

Tuesday disappeared into a drunken haze, the bottles of good wine that he kept for special occasions disappearing much faster than they should have. At least his fridge was mostly full, not that he could remember what he'd slapped together and shoved into his mouth between massive gulps straight from the bottle.

On Wednesday he at least managed to graduate to the couch, aimlessly flipping through channels on his oversized TV while the misery of his hangover provided a welcome change from the misery of his break-up. He'd gotten a little too engrossed in a few of the daytime soap operas, empathising with the jilted lovers and feeling their sadness, but he'd had to change the channel when a woman was arrested on her twin sister's murder charges.

He was almost used to the emotional weight in his gut, although more than once he had to remind himself that trying to call Apollo was _definitely_ a bad idea.

Thursday was a little better in the grand scheme of things. Klavier didn't want to leave his apartment, but he showered and changed into real clothes for the first time since Saturday. Everything still hurt, but wallowing in his own misery was feeling like a less appealing option than it had the day before.

He briefly turned his personal phone on, saw that the only messages he had were automated reminders about bill payments, and immediately turned it off again. At some point he'd have to change his background from that picture of him and Apollo, but it could wait. The pictures were off his walls, but he could at least keep _one_ for a while, right?

On Friday he started getting restless, his fingers tapping on his table to a beat he didn't recognise as he ate lunch. He usually threw himself into his work enough that he never had a second to be bored, but even in the aftermath of his heart ripping to shreds he could still feel the approach of cabin fever.

So tapping fingers became quiet humming, and quiet humming became disjointed lyrics, and disjointed lyrics became everything that Klavier wanted to say but had no one to say it to. After previous break-ups, he'd talked it through with Daryan over drinks until he'd felt better, but now?

Now he would talk to the world.

Klavier had never really understood people who channelled their unhappiness into art, considering that _his_ style of art had always been raunchy lyrics and seductively catchy rhythms. But now that he wasn't constrained by the expectations surrounding the Gavinners, and considering the reactions he'd gotten to _The Guitar's Serenade_ …

The world might just be ready for an older, more introspective Klavier Gavin. And maybe if something smiled upon him, Apollo might find it more to his liking, and he would hear Klavier's apology.

By Saturday, Klavier was remembering how therapeutic music had been for him as a teenager, going through puberty and thinking that every day was the worst day ever. A traditional therapist would probably be a better choice, but at least he could start considering his issues through his music.

On Sunday, though, the crushing realisation that he was returning to work where his path would inevitably cross with Apollo's hit him like a truck, leaving him shaking in its aftermath. Even if they no longer worked on the same cases, considering that their relationship had been a serious conflict of interests, they still saw each other at the courthouse and the detention centre.

Klavier was feeling better, but he knew without a doubt that it would all come crashing down if he saw Apollo. He wasn't even sure if years of publicity training could stop him from begging the man right then and there to tell him how he could make Apollo feel better.

But his music was coming out just as naturally as it once had at the height of the Gavinners' popularity, and by Sunday evening Klavier was entertaining an idea that could either make or break him.

On Monday, Klavier woke up far earlier than usual, scrubbing himself clean in the shower and washing his hair to its previous standard of perfection. He tied the now-soft mass back into a simple high ponytail, not even willing to try and twist it into the style that both he and Kristoph had favoured. Still, he looked _good_ , and after a generous amount of concealer and foundation covered up the dark circles under his eyes and the pimples that had appeared in the aftermath of an unhealthy week, he looked even better.

Dry-cleaned pants, shirt and trademark purple jacket were teamed with shining shoes and his usual necklace, and Klavier looked himself up and down in his full-length mirror for the first time in over a week.

He wanted nothing more than to go back to bed, but he was fairly certain that the world hadn't stopped turning while he'd been cooped up inside, and Edgeworth would definitely want to hear what he had to say in person.

Taking a deep breath, making sure that he had all his belongings and standing up as straight as he could, Klavier plastered a perfect smile on his face and blew a kiss to his reflection, knowing that Kristoph would never do such a thing and so it was definitely himself looking back.

Then, for the first time in nine days, Klavier Gavin stepped out into the world, the facade of perfection thrown firmly over the hurting man inside.

* * *

It was early, too early even for Edgeworth's secretary to be at her desk, but Klavier still knew that he could find his boss in his office. He was fairly certain that the man never slept, starting earlier and staying later than anyone else in the building.

Considering the quiet state of the building, Edgeworth's office door was wide open, but Klavier knocked regardless. Edgeworth was far too composed to show any shock at being interrupted so early on a Monday morning, but Klavier was sure that he saw at least a _little_ pleasant surprise in Edgeworth's expression at the sight of his visitor.

"Mr Gavin," Edgeworth greeted as he adjusted his glasses, standing up and gesturing for Klavier to enter and take one of the seats across the desk. "You're looking well."

"Don't tell my fans but it's mostly make-up," Klavier replied as he sat down, trying to maintain his usual casually sloppy posture. Edgeworth's eyebrows quirked at the little joke, and Klavier took that as a win. "Thanks for giving me the time off, by the way."

"I can't stop employees from using their paid leave," Edgeworth said, but his eyes told Klavier a completely different story. He had a creeping suspicion that Edgeworth _knew_ , and considering how often Klavier had come across Phoenix Wright skulking around the building, his suspicions definitely weren't unfounded.

And wasn't that just another person on the list of lives that Klavier had damaged, a man who had lost everything for seven years because Klavier couldn't take the idea of losing his first case.

But that was why Klavier was in his superior's office first thing on a Monday morning, and now he had to see things through.

"What brings you to my office so early, Mr Gavin?"

Fighting the nervous urge to run his hand through his ponytail, Klavier shifted until he was sitting up straight and looked Edgeworth right in the eye.

"I quit."

Edgeworth didn't visibly react, and seconds ticked past in silence as the pair maintained steady eye contact. It was Edgeworth who looked away first, but Klavier still didn't feel like he'd won.

"May I ask why?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Klavier let one hand stray to his necklace, running his fingers over the points. "I'm going back to music. All I've done as a prosecutor is hurt people, and I can't take it any more."

Edgeworth took another few moments to run that through his mind, cool gaze still focused on Klavier. "You've successfully prosecuted more cases so far this year than any other prosecutor in this building, you have had a hand in solving multiple high-profile murder cases, and your name has been mentioned in relation to the High Prosecutor position that my own promotion left vacant over a year ago. Those are hardly insignificant achievements."

"You flatter me, Herr Edgeworth, but none of those overshadow the fact that I put both my one remaining family member and the only real friend I ever had into jail."

"Do not confuse flattery for fact," Edgeworth said, voice still infuriatingly calm and distant. "The fact that you helped to solve a number of murders without being blinded by your attachment to the perpetrators is a testament to your skill as a prosecutor."

" _So what?_ " Klavier finally snapped, ignoring the way that Edgeworth looked like this was the outcome he'd been aiming for. "I've got nothing left, Edgeworth. I didn't leave my apartment for over a week and you were literally the only person who called me to find out where I was. _There's nothing here for me_."

Breathing hard, Klavier pulled himself back together, Edgeworth watching intently in silence until he could see that Klavier was calm again.

"I will approve you for an unpaid leave of absence." Klavier opened his mouth to argue that he was _quitting_ , but Edgeworth held up a hand and continued on, cutting Klavier off before he could start. "Do _not_ throw away a flourishing career over a man- or a woman, for that matter."

"It's not just-"

"Even if this was just the final straw," Edgeworth cut in over Klavier again, "I won't have one of my prosecutors making rash decisions because of a complicated love life."

The tone of Edgeworth's voice made Klavier think that there was more to Edgeworth's attitude than he was letting on, and although Klavier didn't typically put too much stock in gossip he'd certainly heard some compelling rumours about the Chief Prosecutor and a certain defence attorney. The fact that Edgeworth did indeed seem to know exactly what had happened to Klavier led even more credibility to those rumours, considering how closely said defence attorney worked with Apollo.

Klavier frowned, but he knew that there was no way he could win this battle. His job necessitated that he could put forth a good argument, but even he could admit that he wasn't yet on the same level as _the_ Miles Edgeworth. "Fine, whatever. Just don't be surprised if I never come back."

"You can reassess your position in six months," Edgeworth said in that calm voice, jotting down a quick note to himself before looking back at Klavier. "My secretary will email you the necessary documents later today."

Klavier was clever enough to know when he was being dismissed and so he stood up, wondering just how Edgeworth had shifted his resolve in a matter of minutes. If it hadn't been directed at him then it certainly would have been impressive to witness.

"Goodbye, Herr Edgeworth. I'll send you a copy of my solo debut album."

"I'll look forward to it," Edgeworth replied easily, sliding a pile of documents towards himself and not bothering to look up as Klavier walked out of his office. Shaking his head in vague amusement, Klavier paused by the door to put himself together again, dropping back into Klavier Gavin so that he could face the public once again.

It wasn't easy, but it only had to stick until he got home. He had music to write, and his emotions felt raw enough that he was thoroughly anticipating the results.


	4. Writing

It was a sped-up process to put an entire album together when he didn't have to worry about getting up every morning and heading into work, or sitting up all night going over evidence just hours before court was due to start.

There were still a lot of long, sleepless nights, but there was no one to tell him to get out of bed if he wanted to catch up on sleep during the day. It was lonely work, but music almost always had been just him against the world; the other Gavinners had pitched in here and there, but the bulk of the writing had always fallen onto Klavier's shoulders.

This, though...this was different than anything he'd ever done with his band. He'd never put so much of himself on a page, always preferring to stick behind the shallow pool of his public persona, but the songs he'd written in the past fortnight were his worst moments, turned into poetry and set to some of the most downbeat music he'd ever written.

Normally he would write at least fifteen songs so that his label could cull the ones that didn't work, but there was no way that anyone could convince him to cut any of the nine that he'd written. Every single one was precious to him, and he'd fight for each and every one of them.

If he had to pick between his children, though, he could easily admit that it was the last track that was closest to his heart. Tentatively titled just _Sorry_ , it was everything that he wished he could have told Apollo, if he thought that he could ever see the man again without just hurting him more. It was a more coherent version of the message he might have drunkenly left on Apollo's phone, had he not obliterated any means of contacting the man again.

It was, without a doubt, the greatest thing he'd ever written.

 _Sorry_ was also the only song he had planned to feature just himself, considering that it was the most raw and personal song on the whole album of raw and personal songs. He was passable at enough instruments to pull it off for a single track, even if an entirely solo album was a little out of his reach.

As for the other songs...well, Klavier had an idea for that. Pulling his laptop closer, Klavier opened up his professional Facebook page, the one with millions upon millions of followers who hung on his every word on the very rare occasions that he actually said anything of note. He hadn't even wanted it made in the first place, but everyone around him insisted that it was necessary for staying relevant, even if just to stop anyone from _pretending_ to be him.

 **Klavier Gavin  
** _1 min – Los Angeles, CA, United States_

Achtung, my darlings! What you've all been waiting for is finally coming: My new album is ready to be recorded, and I'm going to give you more of me than ever before. Will you let me rock your world again?

A few moments of writing later, Klavier hit post and sat back in his chair, watching as the notifications began rolling in almost immediately and his message began to spread. No one seemed to like him as a person, but everyone (or almost everyone) _loved_ him as a performer. Once word got out that Klavier Gavin was finally recording a solo album, labels and studios and producers and performers would be begging him to be a part of it. He would have his pick of the best, because at least his professional life wasn't as much of a pathetic mess as his personal one.

Within a few more minutes, Klavier's everyday phone began to vibrate with a call for the first time since his nightly catch-ups with Apollo had been abruptly cancelled. The ache in his chest almost immediately increased tenfold from the reminder of how alone he was, no one except his goddamn boss bothering to reach out to him until they saw an opportunity to leech off of his fame.

His hand was shaking when he picked up the phone, but by now he was good enough to at least make his voice sound normal. It wasn't like anyone could see his down-turned eyes, limp hair and sickly pale skin, after all.

"Good afternoon, Fräulein," Klavier greeted, seeing the name of the Gavinners' former manager lighting up the screen. "You saw the news, then?"

He himself no longer had a personal manager, but he trusted her to help him sort through the mountains of offers that he would certainly have incoming very soon. She could also put out the word about who exactly he was looking for to help him out, and make the process a lot smoother than it would be on his own.

Sure, she obviously didn't care about him as a person, but Klavier himself didn't matter. This was about the perfect Klavier Gavin, and even if fame was a fickle mistress he could at least feel like he had someone who wanted him, if only for a few moments.

His apartment would still be cold and lonely, but as long as people were screaming his name he could still say that he existed. It was more than he'd had going for him over the past three weeks, at the very least.

* * *

"Did you hear?"

Apollo had barely even managed to close the front door of the Wright Anything Agency before Trucy was in his face, waving her cheap phone excitedly and not pausing long enough to let Apollo get a look at what she was trying to show him.

Getting older hadn't dampened her enthusiasm for the things she loved, a trait that Apollo truly admired and hoped she never grew out of. She was a little calmer in public now, but all bets were off while in the relative privacy of the Agency office.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Apollo asked while he tried to gently catch her wrist and hold the phone steady. By this point he was pretty certain that she was just messing with him, but he eventually managed to capture her arm and peer at the screen.

"I have a free first period on Tuesdays, you know that!"

When Apollo didn't reply she looked up at him, waving her free hand in front of his face. "Hey, Polly, you alive in there?"

The only response was his fingers tightening around her arm, enough to be uncomfortable almost to the point of actual pain. "Polly, what are you...ah, let- Apollo, let go!"

Snapped out of the sudden mood that had overtaken him, Apollo let her arm drop like he'd been burnt, taking a step back and slamming heavily into the closed door behind him. Hand scrabbling for the handle, he stared at Trucy with eyes that didn't seem like they were seeing anything at all. "Oh god, I...I'm sorry, Truce, I...sorry."

"I'm fine," she said, completely meaning it, "but Polly, what-"

"I gotta go," Apollo mumbled, finally finding the door handle and managing to pull himself together enough to let it open up behind him. Without another word, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Trucy with her phone loosely dangling from her fingers.

"Did I hear Apollo?" Phoenix said as he stepped into the main room from one of the further back spaces, straightening his suit jacket and looking around for his slightly-less-junior partner. Seeing that the only person in the room was Trucy, and with still a while before Athena could be expected to arrive, Phoenix looked questioningly at his daughter.

"He...kind of freaked out and ran away..." Trucy said quietly, sticking her head through the office door once again as if to see whether Apollo was still in the corridor. "I just wanted to know whether Klavier had told him anything about his new album, because they're friends and all..."

While his daughter's back was turned, Phoenix fiddled with the wrist cuff of his jacket and ran through the million different responses he could make. Apollo and Klavier's relationship had been a secret to almost everyone except their bosses, what with the press following Klavier on occasion even though he hadn't released any new music in years. In fact, the only reason that Phoenix and Miles had been told was so that the pair wouldn't be put up against each other in court, thus heading off any potential conflicts of interest or unfair collusion between the opposing sides before they could even begin.

Seeing her turn back towards him, Phoenix schooled himself into a purely neutral expression and decided to play dumb. "Maybe he wanted to be the first person to pre-order the album."

"Pre-orders aren't open yet, I already checked," Trucy said slowly, her eyes too perceptive as she turned her full attention to Phoenix and stared him down. The older she got and the more time she spent with the lawyers and prosecutors who surrounded her, the more Phoenix could see her developing the same perception skills as her half-brother, even without any outside help.

Life had been so much easier for him back when she'd been younger, and keeping Apollo's secret had certainly been simpler before Trucy had found any reason to poke into the 'just friends' cover.

"What aren't you telling me, Daddy?"

"Fine, fine. They had an argument, so Polly's being a bit delicate about the whole thing. He'll get over it."

Trucy's eyes narrowed but soon enough she nodded, looking unsatisfied but willing to let it drop. She knew that there was more to the story than what Phoenix was telling her, but she also knew that it was impossible to pry information from him when he didn't want to give it.

He'd spent seven years denying that he was anything other than a piano player, after all, even if anyone who had heard him play knew that it couldn't possibly be the truth.

Maybe she'd ask Miles the next time they joined him for dinner. Oh, and she could ask him if Klavier had mentioned anything about his album while he was at the Prosecutor's Office! Even if she didn't love the Gavinners as much as she once had, the very fact that she'd actuallymet Klavier Gavin on multiple occasions and he'd been so kind to her was enough to have her excited about his solo album.

Her arm twinged just a little as Apollo's face before he'd left lurked at the back of her mind, though, and she resolved not to mention Klavier around him again unless he brought the man up first.

She never wanted to see that much pain in his eyes ever again.


End file.
